"Dammit, where did that kid come from? How is he that good?"
Rubbing his remaining ear, One-Ear looked back in terror with every few steps, his face shifting between anger and dread, terrified that someone was tailing him.
He moved at a brisk clip, hurrying through four or five carriages and squeezing past the scattered passengers. Only when he reached the sleeper car did he finally breathe a sigh of relief.
On a seat to one side of the carriage sat a middle-aged man wearing an animal-hide vest and a skullcap. His hands were tucked into his sleeves, a vacuum flask rested by his feet, and a pair of mustache whiskers drooped over his upper lip in an eight-shape. Leaning against the swaying carriage wall, he appeared to doze, yet his narrow, slitted eyes darted sideways at the fidgeting One-Ear.
Seeing One-Ear cast him a discreet glance, the man brushed peanut shells from his clothes, stood up, walked to the rearmost wooden door, and gave it a soft knock.
"Eighth Master, Fourth's back."
"Let him in."
A low, muted voice came through the door.
At those words, One-Ear hurried forward and squeezed through the crack of the pushed-open door.
Inside the compartment were two people: one was the diminutive old woman, while the other was bundled up under a thick cotton quilt with his back turned to them. On the small table beside him sat an assortment of food—cured meats, dried fruits, and nuts of every kind.
"Could you tell where he comes from?"
The old woman's eyes were venomous. "Couldn't tell. That brat's methods are bizarre, his strikes lightning-fast. The moment he touches any of our boys, they drop. Devilishly uncanny."
The figure on the bed fell silent for several seconds before asking One-Ear, "Fourth, what about you?"
Cold sweat beaded on One-Ear's temples. "When he touched me earlier, my arms and legs simply stopped obeying me. It was like being dead drunk and unable to stand."
The man on the bed pondered in silence for a long time, as though weighing his options carefully. Not until the train pulled into a station did he call out languidly toward the door, "Did he get off?"
Before long, quick footsteps sounded outside. "No, but he handed those babies over to the uniforms. Looks like he's guarding against us. The girl didn't get off either—likely figured out we have brothers waiting at the station to meet us. Sharp as a tack."
The man on the bed made no move to rise, remaining lying down. "Babies can always be snatched again, and meat pigs can be led back once more..."
"Eighth Master, how about we..." The old woman narrowed her aged eyes and made a slicing motion across her throat.
Just as the three were conferring, hurried footsteps rushed up outside the door once again. "Eighth Master, I've got something huge to tell you!"
"Come in."
The wooden door opened, and a half-grown boy slipped inside, still panting for breath.
"Eighth Master, we can't let that fellow get away!"
The old woman's wrinkled face twitched, and she was about to snap at him when the man on the bed chuckled softly. "Why's that?"
The boy was filthy, dressed like an urchin from an impoverished family, his face sallow and malnourished. Yet his eyes were exceptionally sharp, and his voice trembled with excitement. "Second Grannie, Fourth Brother, after you two left just now, I saw him pull something out of his pocket! Guess what it was? Good grief, it was a pearl the size of a longan fruit! And the way his pack is bulging, nine times out of ten he's got other treasures in there!"
The old woman's eyes flew wide. "A pearl the size of a longan? You sure you didn't see wrong, boy?"
The filthy kid swore up and down. "I swear it! And that pearl looked like it had gold wire inlay on it, just like the pearls on the emperors' hats in the museums!"
The man on the bed finally threw off the quilt and sat up against the pillow, casually picking up two candied fruits from the table and popping them into his mouth.
Yet this Eighth Master still did not reveal his true face: he wore a knit cap, large aviator-style sunglasses covered his eyes, and with his collar turned up, only his nose and mouth were exposed.
"That's an Eastern pearl. Could that kid be a grave robber?" Eighth Master took a deep breath and made an immediate decision. "First, go call up all the brothers waiting at the station to board the train."
The boy's face flushed red with excitement. Giving a swift acknowledgment, he dashed out.
One-Ear asked, uncertain, "Could it really be true?"
Fingering the archer's ring on his hand, Eighth Master cast him a somewhat disdainful glance. "When it comes to martial arts, that boy might not be your match, but in discerning eye, ten of you couldn't compare to him."
With that, Eighth Master sighed with deep emotion. "'The swallows that once nested before the halls of the Wangs and Xies have flown into ordinary homes.' When Heshen was put to death back in the day, one of his great treasonous crimes was illicitly hoarding Eastern pearls. Those were exclusive imperial treasures of the Manchu royal court—even a single one qualifies as an extraordinary find."
The old woman hesitated. "That boy doesn't look like a fool. He didn't take it out earlier, didn't take it out later, but chose this exact moment."
Eighth Master spoke with deep meaning, "He's issuing us a formal challenge... Fine by me. Since this little brother refuses a toast only to drink a forfeit, bent on playing the river-crossing dragon, we'll have to show him what's what and see what kind of divinity he claims to be. Otherwise, if word gets out, how are we supposed to keep running the underworld? I want that pearl, and I want his life too."
One-Ear spat viciously, "He brought a woman along with him too. No matter how good he is, what can he do? When the time comes—"
*Smack!*
Before he could finish, Eighth Master slapped him across the right cheek, sending a visible trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.
Eighth Master's eyes turned icy, his voice chilling. "You don't touch the woman. He didn't call the police, he didn't get off the train, he just sat right there and openly laid down a challenge. The other party is playing by Jianghu rules—we can't stoop below him. This contest is about our respective skills, a measure of who outsmarts whom. Besides, with so many of us, if we have to touch a woman just to take down a wet-behind-the-ears kid, where would our dignity go? You useless piece of trash, get out!"
Clutching his rapidly swelling cheek, One-Ear stepped out of the compartment with a dark, resentful face and ducked straight into the restroom.
"Getting more backward by the day. What kind of thief has so damn many rules?"
Muttering under his breath, he unfastened his trousers. But when he looked down at his urine, his eyes bulged. "Dammit, am I burning with internal heat or what? Why the hell is there blood in my piss?"
After a brief stop, the train began to move again.
Hitching up his trousers, One-Ear hurried back toward Eighth Master's compartment. But when he reached it, there was not a soul inside; everything had been packed clean, and the quilt was already neatly folded.
"Old bastard."
Spitting out a curse, he hurried off in the direction of the carriage where Lian Youming was waiting.
***
Outside the window, the station lights receded into the distance, and the night turned as thick as ink.
Scanning the various seated passengers around him, Lian Youming smiled with narrowed eyes. It seemed the big fish had taken the bait.
He was never afraid of them showing their faces; what he feared was them vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye, only to strike from the shadows later, leaving some fish that slipped through the net.
Men die for wealth as birds die for food.
Since Lian Youming intended to eliminate all future trouble once and for all, relying on Yan Tao and those infants alone was definitely not enough weight. Even if the gang wanted to reclaim their honor, the one stepping forward would not necessarily be the so-called ringleader. Thus, after careful consideration, he had cast out a piece of bait.
Once he caught sight of the filthy child reappearing in his field of vision, Lian Youming put away the Eastern pearl in his hand, donned his overcoat, and led Yan Tao straight toward the rear of the train.
When he had slipped away earlier to avoid the railway police, he had noticed that the last few carriages of this green train appeared to be freight cars—grimy and bound for Shanxi, nine times out of ten used for transporting coal.
It was deep into the night now. Most of the passengers throughout the carriages were fast asleep; aside from the rumbling rhythm of the train grinding over the rails, only the sporadic rise and fall of snores filled the air.
Lian Youming walked in front, and Yan Tao followed closely behind.
They had barely taken a few steps when a man seated close to the aisle stood up. Calling out, "Make way, make way," he flipped a blade into his palm. Unfortunately, the moment his hand came up, Lian Youming clamped onto his collarbone and pressed a thumb against his neck. Without so much as a groan, the man slumped straight back into his seat.
There were not only attackers in the aisle; beneath the seats, men lay with eyes wide open, blades flashing from their sleeves in an attempt to sever hamstrings.
Yet the instant one moved, Lian Youming swept a foot out, the arch of his foot taut, driving force through his toe to strike squarely against the man's chest. A muffled grunt followed, and the attacker instantly fell motionless.
Without pausing for a second along the way, Yan Tao watched as Lian Youming walked at an unhurried pace. One hand darted left and right, grappling and capturing with fluid precision. Whomever he touched went limp, and the sound of popping sinews and cracking bones made her heart leap in terror.
Only when they reached the second-to-last passenger carriage did Lian Youming glance back.
Behind them, the aisle they had just traversed was packed at some point with a dense, dark crowd of people—men and women, young and old. Though they looked ordinary on the surface, a ruthless ferocity gleamed in their eyes.
"Tsk, what a crowd. Thrilling."
Continuing backward toward the next car, Lian Youming crooked a finger at the mob, grinned broadly, and mouthed silently:
"Come!"
Chapter 56